Chapter 11
After I mentioned wanting to check out the shopping district, Norton led me to a spot named Goldrain.
“This street is a recent addition, created by the Duke during his city overhaul. It’s now the biggest commercial hub in the north. The pavement gleams with gold accents, which is how it got its name.”
The inlaid stones along the road did indeed shimmer with a golden hue.
“Blenheim’s mountains hold several gold veins. They used the surplus to gild these stones.”
I tutted silently to myself.
I’d caught my father—the Marquis—muttering about my dowry right before I departed.
Blenheim appeared stark on the surface, yet it brimmed with riches from magic stones and beast-derived resources.
And they’d scraped together a mere 500 danir for the wedding?
Hmph. With every stride, I ground my heel into the gilded pavement, channeling my annoyance. Norton, likely picking up on my lingering pique from the Grand Duke’s no-show, stayed quiet.
“While we’re here, let’s browse it all. Which shops are the highlights? A general goods place? A café? I’m game for anything.”
Norton paused before replying.
“I’m not familiar with the area… I don’t frequent these sorts of establishments.”
“Not a single one?”
“My apologies. I would have looked into it if I’d anticipated this.”
“No worries. It’d be odd for a knight occupied with slaying beasts to know about such matters.”
“To be frank, there aren’t many standout shops. Folks up north don’t chase fads, and they hate queuing for boutiques.”
A quick scan confirmed his words held water.
The establishments flanking Goldrain’s sides were serviceable at best, downright crude at worst. Without their blunt nameplates, discerning their wares would’ve been impossible.
The Blenheim Mountains had offered stunning vistas, but I refused to sour too soon. Brightening my tone, I declared,
“Since this is a sightseeing trip, let’s stroll and discover what we can.”
And so, Norton and I meandered through the district.
Is shopping truly this dull?
The merchandise struck me as quaintly outdated and rough-hewn.
Even in a shop touting the capital’s newest styles, the loveliest hats sported garish ribbons at the nape, and the few tolerable lace gloves carried absurd price tags.
Compounding it all, the vendors radiated chilliness.
The North’s remoteness meant courtesy brought no extra trade, so why bother? Naturally, their innate gruffness played a role too.
By the time we ducked into a teashop, the proprietor’s stony stare had worn me down. I ordered black tea, only for a fresh slump of weariness to hit.
“Your Highness, are you okay?”
My reflection in the window appeared utterly spent, even to me.
“Just a touch weary.”
“Shall we head back to the castle?”
Yet I balked at concluding my debut excursion on such a flat note.
The prospect of solitary dinner in my chambers deepened the gloom.
“Let’s grab a bite first.”
“Should I scout a café?”
“I’m unsure… Cake doesn’t appeal right now.”
I’d already visited one called Delitar. Far more somber than anticipated, its tea came with a dense butter cake that sat like lead.
Sharing a restaurant meal with only Norton felt off, besides.
As I opened my mouth to propose retreating, Norton’s face brightened.
“Come to think of it, there’s an inn close by.”
“An inn?”
“It belongs to Sir Leon’s parents.”
“Oh!”
I clapped in delight. Word had it his mother was a superb chef, renowned enough that knights trekked there specially.
“Do they offer food?”
“Absolutely.”
I brightened at once.
“I’ve been dying to try it! Ideal timing!”
Norton exhaled softly, tension easing at my spark.
“We’re deeply honored, Your Highness! I’m Marie, the proprietress, and this is my husband, Jacques.”
Their hearty greeting felt novel.
Thus far, Blenheimers who’d clocked me had seemed wary at best, hostile at worst.
The inn stood deserted. As Marie and Jacques fussed over me, Norton murmured to them, prompting a swift ushering to a table.
“I’ve heard rave reviews of your cuisine. Sir Leon raves about it constantly.”
“Oh my! Hear that, dear? Her Highness knows our Leon!”
Marie beamed, breathless with joy.
“Any preferences for your meal, Your Highness?”
I paused before responding.
“Well, there is one thing on my mind…”
A certain dish had haunted me since that butter cake fiasco.
“Do you prepare tomato stew?”
“Blenheim-style, maybe?”
“Exactly. Fiery and robust.”
“The Grand Duchess loves tomato stew!”
Marie’s eyes danced.
“My husband masters it! White wine complements it perfectly.”
Jacques lit up too.
“And you, Sir Norton?”
“I’m good.”
“You can’t expect me to dine solo?”
“Not while I’m on duty…”
I interrupted him mid-sentence.
“Two bowls of tomato stew, if you please. Wine just for me.”
“Right away!”
Soon, the stew’s pungent, zesty scent wafted through.
Alongside it came crusty fresh bread, roasted chicken, stir-fried greens, and a seafood soup brimming with savor.
“What a spread!”
“We merely added a few extras for Your Highness…”
Marie nudged a plate into prime position, fussing for perfection. I sensed a mother’s bid to shine for her boy’s sake.
This is like a parental meet-the-teacher.
“Why not join us?”
“Oh, we couldn’t…”
“That would be improper!”
“It’ll be dull with just Norton and me.”
Stunned but quick to relent after Norton’s nod, the pair sat.
“Oh my!”
I scooped a spoonful of stew and pivoted to Marie.
“Not to your liking, Your Highness?”
“It’s exquisite!”
“You’re too kind.”
Marie brushed her cheek, bashful.
“Truly. The knights weren’t exaggerating!”
I dove into another mouthful with gusto.
“If it suits you, there’s more where that came from.”
Their authentic bliss spurred me on. The fare lacked castle opulence, but the vibrant companionship elevated every bite.
Jacques filled my glass with white wine—sweet yet balanced, gliding down effortlessly.
One glass led to two… soon, half the bottle vanished.
“Your Highness, maybe ease up on the wine.”
Jacques wavered, eyeing Norton’s worry.
“It’s nothing. I can handle this.”
Norton’s brow creased as he studied me.
“Honest. No one’s ever outdrunk me.”
Drinking hinged less on capacity than resolve.
In my prior life, work demanded endless boozing.
My superior hauled me to liquor-fueled negotiations for key contracts. Poor drinker himself, he relied on me to guzzle for him and endure the opposition.
I loathed the schlep, yet critics still branded me a climber greased by booze.
“Didn’t expect the hate here too…”
The words slipped out unbidden.
“Your Highness…”
Marie regarded me with chagrin and compassion.
“Not aimed at you. I’m just touched by your warmth, despite my crashing in.”
Rumors must have reached them, no doubt.
Likely for Leon’s sake, but their grace touched me.
“Your Highness, whatever do you mean?”
“Hosting me elevates your house.”
Marie inclined closer, voice earnest.
“Leon praises your kindness to him. We’re thankful for how you’ve treated our boy.”
Leon said that?
I’d assumed all was well, blind to the accumulating strain.
Her words dissolved an unnoticed knot in my chest.
“I am the Duchess of Blenheim.”
I murmured it like an oath.
“Of course.”
“I belong to the North now.”
“You’re a true Northerner.”
“So I yearn not to be despised by Northern folk.”
“……”
The pair, who’d nodded along blindly, went still.
They shared a fleeting look before Marie leaned in, face soft.
“Your Highness, if I may, Blenheim’s people will soon grasp your true heart.”
“You believe that?”
“Certainly. We Northerners seem curt and inarticulate, but our cores burn with warmth.”
“Even the Duke?”
“…Pardon?”
Marie’s tender eyes flickered.
“Is the Duke warm inside? He won’t even glance my way.”
Had the glow thawed me too far? Irritation flared anew.
I wheeled on Norton.
“Well, Sir Norton? Spill it.”
The steadfast knight’s shoulders jerked.
“I mean, isn’t the Duke remotely curious about his wife’s face? Isn’t that excessive?”
With three souls frozen before me, I unleashed a torrent of grievances.
How did I end up in my room?
Prying open leaden lids, I sprawled on the sitting room sofa.
I recalled the carriage ride back… and insisting Norton needn’t escort me, though he trailed fretfully to my door.
Rising proved wobbly; my legs buckled.
Am I intoxicated?
Annette’s frame apparently spurned spirits. Shocking to reel from mere glasses of wine.
Pathetic, suddenly.
Lolling in wretched disarray.
Why agonize over an unseen Duke for days?
Was I ever this frail?
No—not frailty; opportunity had eluded us.
Yet storming his quarters at this hour?
A desperate gambit…
I need strategy.
My gaze snagged on the tea tray nearby: herbal-infused pot, cups—maid’s doing, surely.
Blame the wine, but resolve surged.
Steadying myself, tray in grasp.
“Fine. Time to behold the Duke’s visage.”
